Turn Back Time
by Iani Ancilla
Summary: A spell cast to annihilate the Boy-Who-Lived ends up hitting a Death Eater turned spy. What will come out of it? (summaries are not my thing... ^^;;) added chap 4!
1. Of PortKeys and NightTime Tales

AUTHOR: Iani Ancilla (chaosnomiko@hotmail.com)  
PAIRING: HP/SS (Harry Potter/Severus Snape. If you don't know, what are you  
doing here???) It's *slash*, people, slash. Two male characters in love.  
With each other. And taking it a bit further than longing stares and quiet  
words. If it's not your cup of tea, do yourself and me a favour, and go  
read something else.  
RATING: R for later chapters. Right now it's quite G... sigh... the  
drawbacks of having an actual plot, uh?  
TITLE: Turn Back Time (if you come up with anything better, please let me  
know!!!)  
DISCLAIMER: Once upon a time, there was a wonderful woman. Her name was JK  
Rowling, and she was most fair among the writers of a land called Earth.  
She had great powers, and beside those she had something no one else could  
stake a claim over: she had copyrights on Harry Potter and anything  
related. Envious? Me too...  
To say it plainly: I own nothing. Well, maybe a couple of mismatched socks,  
but *not* wizarding mismatched socks. All right?  
THANKS: To Dyane, who betaed this: you should all be grateful to her!!! To  
Paoli, who kind of sold me this plot bunny, since she's into Ron/Harry  
(ugh!) and any thought of Sev in bed with someone (and of Sev in general)  
is enough to make her go eeew. And to Pol, also, who insulted me for it.  
  
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O-o-O-o-  
  
TURN BACK TIME  
  
Chapter 1: Of Portkeys and Night-Time Tales  
  
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,  
entered his office and sat happily behind his desk, congratulating himself  
on the wonderful success of the Halloween Ball, which had just ended. If he  
was concerned about the Death Eater meeting that his Potions Master had  
been summoned to earlier that night, he didn't show it in the least as he  
rummaged through a couple of drawers before finding a box of lemon drops  
and settling for a nice munching session. After all, Professor Snape had  
been a spy for their cause for years now, why should things go bad that  
very night?  
Thus his shock was easily excusable, when suddenly two figures appeared out  
of thin air in the middle of the room, ending up in a tangled mess of limbs  
sprawled out on the carpet before his desk. A quick glance was enough for  
him to tell one of the two was unconscious -or dead-, while the other  
seemed to be quite all right. The Headmaster rose quickly from his chair as  
the conscious one raised his head and fixed wide, emerald eyes on him from  
behind thick glasses. Then the boy, who Dumbledore had with some  
astonishment recognized as Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, immediately  
began checking his companion as if in search of a sign of life.  
Questions were crowding the Headmaster's mind that he had no answers to,  
something which didn't happen very often. How had Harry appeared like that  
on school grounds? Who was the black-clad figure in the boy's lap? Why  
wasn't Potter in Gryffindor Tower? and a hundred more questions raced  
through his head. His mind was working at light speed as he crouched down  
on the floor beside the boy, taking what appeared to be a young thin man  
into his arms and assessing, with a breath of relief, that he was just  
unconscious, and that he didn't seem wounded nor hurt in any way.  
Paying great attention while he moved the black-clad boy to lay him down on  
his desk, the elder wizard started questioning the Gryffindor:  
"Harry, what happened? Who's thi-" Dumbledore blanched as the second  
figure's face came fully into the candle-light... didn't he look familiar?  
Yes, surely... yes, he looked almost like- but no, how could it be?  
Nevertheless... The old wizard knew only too well those sharp features, the  
pale complexion, the jet-black hair, the brow furrowed into a scowl even  
when it should be distended in sleep or unconsciousness... Had there been  
any doubts in the Headmaster's mind they would have been dispelled by the  
large hooked nose, as much a distinguishing trait of the Snape household as  
the family crest itself.  
"Severus?"  
A slight nod from the Boy-Who-Lived was the only answer he got, but he  
didn't need much confirmation. After all, he knew Severus... Had known him  
since the Sorting Hat had put the boy into Slytherin, thirty-one years  
before. Thirty-one years before, yes. Severus was now forty-two. So, why  
was he looking exactly the same as he had at seventeen?  
  
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O-o-O-o-  
  
A short time later the Headmaster, Harry Potter, and an unconscious  
seventeen-year-old-looking Severus Snape under mobilicorpus made their  
entrance into the Hospital Wing, where Poppy Pomfrey had a bed and various  
healing potions ready in expectation of the Potions master's return from  
his spying session. As soon as the medi-witch confirmed the Slytherin was  
just in some sort of unnatural sleep, Harry was asked to sit down and  
explain the situation as far as he could.  
Sitting on a spare bed, the Boy-Who-Lived closed his eyes and took in a  
deep breath, and after a few moments he began telling his tale.  
"I was going back to Gryffindor tower soon after the Ball. I was alone  
since I'd stayed a bit to chat with Sir Nicholas after Ron and 'Mione had  
gone off to the dorms... As I approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, I  
saw Crabbe, Goyle and Bullstrode coming towards me. I was surprised, since  
they're not even supposed to know where, exactly, our dorms are, but then  
we started to quarrel and I didn't really think of it anymore.  
Suddenly, Bullstrode took something out from under her robe and threw it at  
me. I- I caught it out of reflex.  
It was a Portkey."  
The last sentence had been just whispered, and the boy had his eyes shut  
tight. Considering his past experience with Portkeys, it didn't come as a  
shock that he could be troubled by the memory.  
"I felt myself landing on grass, and I could sense people around me, but I  
couldn't bring myself to open my eyes. It was all just too much like fourth  
year... when Cedric..."  
Harry halted with a sob, and opened green eyes glimmering with tears to  
stare at Dumbledore and the medi-witch, who were looking at him  
sympathetically.  
"At last I did open my eyes, and..." the boy's voice broke slightly, but he  
didn't stop, and went on in a quivering tone "...Death Eaters were all  
around me, and then there was Voldemort. We were in a clearing of some  
sort... I don't know where...  
"Voldemort began to talk to me, while two Death Eaters had me in a body  
bind and took my wand. He said that I wouldn't hinder his plans anymore,  
and that since Avada Kevadra seemed to just bounce off me he'd have to...  
to annihilate me in some other way.  
He raised his wand and started casting something complex. I couldn't even  
understand what language it was in... Some of it sounded like parseltongue,  
but not quite it... He chanted and chanted, until after a bit I heard one  
of the Death Eaters who were holding me gasp..."  
Here Harry stopped, staring into space for a moment, and then lowering a  
thoughtful gaze onto Snape's sleeping face. He didn't seem to realize that  
they were waiting for him to continue, so the Headmaster cleared his throat  
and gently prodded him to go on.  
"What happened, Harry? How did you counter the spell? How did you escape?"  
This brought Harry's gaze back to the Headmaster's face, and he stared  
sharply into the twinkling blue eyes.  
"Who told you I did? Who told you I did *anything*?"  
The Headmaster was at a loss at Harry's vehemence, and so it was Madam  
Pomfrey who answered Harry's question:  
"Well, you *did* come back. You must have done something to get away-"  
Harry cut her off sharply:  
"I didn't. I simply stood there waiting for the spell to end my life."  
"Then wha-"  
"The Death Eater who had gasped crouched down and handed me a potion vial.  
I felt the body bind weaken, but I still couldn't move enough to grasp the  
vial or to run away. The other Death Eaters started hexing the one next to  
me, so I guessed the vial wasn't part of the plan, and maybe he was trying  
to help me. Voldemort didn't even notice anything was amiss; I think the  
spell held his total concentration.  
Then the one who was trying to hand me the vial took off his mask. It- it  
was Snape... He stood up in front of me, and thrust the vial into my hands,  
saying... saying that it was a Portkey to Hogwarts, and then..."  
"Then what, Harry?"  
"He fell, he'd taken the spell in my place... I saw him falling, falling to  
the ground... I- I managed to open the vial and pour the potion onto both  
of us. It activated immediately. You know the rest."  
A long silence stretched in the infirmary, as Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey  
let all which had been told sink in, and Harry gazed at Snape's form lying  
still on the white bed.  
At last, it was the Headmaster who broke the quiet.  
"So his cover has been blown at last. This war will be much more difficult  
without him."  
Tbc...  
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O-o-O-o- 


	2. Never Thought I'd Miss Your Sneer

AUTHOR: Iani Ancilla (chaosnomiko@hotmail.com)  
  
PAIRING: HP/SS (Harry Potter/Severus Snape.) It's *slash*, people, slash. Two male characters in love. With each other. And doing stuff. Even if not in this chapter (sigh!).  
  
RATING: R for later chapters. Right now it's quite G.. sigh.. the drawbacks of having an actual plot, uh?  
  
TITLE: Turn Back Time (if you come up with anything better, please let me know!!!)  
  
DISCLAIMER: JK Rowling. Does this name ring a bell? What about Bloomsbury? Warner Brothers? No? Then you're beyond any hope of being rescued. Anyway, not mine, yadda yadda yadda, no profit, yadda yadda yadda, don't sue it's not worth it.  
  
THANKS: To Dyane because she's the best beta I could imagine To Shushu and Pol, my moral support in these days of stress. To Dame Smith, because if I liked women I'm sure I'd be in love with her. To David Bowie, because since I like men it's him that I drool over. To my hairdresser, because today she saved my hair. And obviously, to everyone who reviewed chapter one!  
  
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TURN BACK TIME  
  
Chapter 2: Never Thought I'd Miss Your Sneer  
  
"So his cover has been blown at last. This war will be much more difficult without him."  
  
If Harry was surprised at the Headmaster's answer, if he was shocked at his lack of concern for Snape, if he didn't like his talking of the Potions master as if he were dead, no one could tell. After another quick check for any injuries the Gryffindor was shooed off to his dorms, while Madam Pomfrey and Albus watched over the unconscious body of the Hogwarts professor.  
  
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As the portrait to his common room swung open Harry was nearly send sprawling onto the floor by the impact of a sobbing body slamming into his. After some failed attempts at disentangling himself, he looked at the red mop of hair that was currently suffocating him and guessed the assailer's identity.  
  
"Ron- Ron, really, I *need* to breathe... I didn't survive Avada Kedavra just to be suffocated by the hair of an emotional Weasley, mate..."  
  
Two brown eyes appeared when the red tangle of hair was partially removed from his face, and after making sure he was indeed all right, Ron broke the hug and stepped back. Behind the fidgeting Weasley (who now looked quite embarrassed at his previous display) Harry could see Hermione, her expression halfway between amused and exasperated at Ron's behaviour.  
  
As soon as they were all sitting down in front of the fireplace, Harry learned that Ron's extreme reaction to his entrance had been out of sheer relief at seeing him back. His friends told Harry that Nearly-Headless Nick had visited the Tower, and when they'd asked him about Harry, Nick had answered that he should have been on his way there. Seeing as their friend didn't arrive in a reasonable amount of time, Ron had looked for him in the kitchens, running the risk of being caught by Filch, while Hermione kept on waiting for him in the Tower. They hadn't gone to the staff, afraid that Harry was just out doing mischief, but when Harry had been missing for over an hour, they had really started to get worried...  
  
"We were going to see McGonagall any moment now. You're lucky you came back before we did!"  
  
"Ron is right, Harry. Out after curfew, and without your cloak or us! What were you thinking? As a Prefect I should report you, you know?"  
  
This last remark earned the girl extremely exasperated looks from her friends, but it was forgotten as soon as Harry launched himself into the tale of what had happened.  
  
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"...And so Dumbledore just said what bad timing Snape demonstrated in betraying himself just now, and then he sent me back here as if nothing had happened. I mean, he wasn't even worried about Snape, and he didn't even send anyone to check on those Slytherins!!"  
  
Hermione looked thoughtful, and kept silent while Ron made a big deal of noise exclaiming how brilliant Harry had been and how Slytherins couldn't be trusted.  
  
"Well, Ron, it *was* a Slytherin who saved me, you know? Besides, I wasn't 'brilliant' at all. I just stood there, totally paralysed with fear..... If it wasn't for Snape, I'd be dead."  
  
"The slimy git. He probably had a second reason to save you. Maybe he plans on blackmailing you or something-"  
  
Harry looked at his best friend in annoyance. Ron was a wonderful guy and he valued their friendship very much, but sometimes his house bias were even worse than Snape's...  
  
"Ron!! He saved me! He put himself in the way of a spell that was meant for me! I don't care if he had a 'second reason', he did it! I owe him my life!"  
  
To this Ron couldn't reply, but that didn't stop him from looking mutinous at the idea of Snape acting generously. Harry ignored his fuming best friend and began to muse aloud about the spell.  
  
"I wonder why Voldemort would cast such a spell. I mean, he wants me dead, why would he cast something to make me younger?? What would the point be?"  
  
It was Hermione who answered after a bit:  
  
"Harry, you said Snape is more or less our age now, right?"  
  
"Well, yes. He certainly looks it. Besides, I heard Dumbledore telling Madam Pomfrey he looks just the same he did at seventeen. But what has that do with anything?"  
  
"Harry, sometimes I really think you're too dense for your own good. How old do you think Snape is?"  
  
"Two hundred!!"  
  
"Oh, shut up Ron, I'm serious. He must be around forty, right?"  
  
"Forty-two, exactly."  
  
That earned him a puzzled look from his friends, but Harry shrugged it off and answered quickly:  
  
"He was at school with my mum an the Marauders. That makes him forty-two."  
  
"Ok, then," Hermione went on, "if he's turned from forty-two to seventeen, that means the spell was meant to take the target back in time of twenty- five years, right?"  
  
"I still don't see what the point is." said Ron.  
  
"But maybe I do!" Exclaimed Harry with a horrified expression on his face. "If *I* had been hit by that spell... I *don't have* a twenty-five-years- younger self to go back to! I would have- I would have been..."  
  
"Annihilated." Hermione completed his thought.  
  
The notion left the three of them so shaken that they decided to call it a night, hoping that maybe they'd be able to look at things from another perspective in the morning. Not that there was any other perspective to the idea of total and utter annihilation, but still, it's not a topic you like to discuss in the depth of night.  
  
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The next day, the first of November, nineteen ninety-seven, was a Saturday.  
  
That meant no classes, but it also meant an early wake-up call for all the members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, since Dean Thomas, new Captain and official pain in the arse, had managed to have Professor McGonagall sign a permission slip to use the pitch for the whole morning.  
  
Harry Potter, titular Seeker of Gryffindor, did a very poor job of catching the Golden Snitch, tired as he was from the previous evening, and so it was that by ten o'clock he was already heading back to his common room, hair dripping from the thin rain which was falling outside, broomstick tucked under one arm, and ears still ringing from Dean's 'constructive criticism' about his performance. Had anyone told him four years ago that he was going to miss Wood's locker-room speeches, he'd probably recommended them a check- up in St. Mungo's. Now, he wasn't so sure.  
  
After a quick shower, he made his way down to the Great Hall for a second breakfast, and there he found Ron and Hermione, chatting calmly in front of what looked like porridge.  
  
"Is that whitish puddle what I think it is?" He asked sitting down next to the redhead.  
  
"Well, it all depends on what you think it is. For example, it's *not* anything edible, but I don't think it's any lethal poison, since Snape hasn't been around since... well, since yesterday evening."  
  
"Oh, Ron, do shut up, or at least try to say something intelligent for a change. Anyway, Harry, yes, it *is* porridge, and an awful one at that. I wonder what happened to the house-elves..."  
  
Harry, though, wasn't listening anymore. After what Ron had said his gaze had turned swiftly to the High table, and he'd had the confirmation of his friend's words. Almost all staff-members were there, with the sole exceptions of Trelawney and Snape. Trelawney had almost never taken a meal in the Great Hall, and Snape... well, he had to admit it. He *was* a bit worried about the professor. He felt... responsible, and the irony of actually feeling guilty towards the teacher he'd wished would die times and times over wasn't lost on him.  
  
As soon as breakfast was over, Harry excused himself quickly from Ron and Hermione, telling them he needed a bit of sleep after the previous night and that morning's training. When he exited the Great Hall, he checked to make sure no one could see him (well, apart for the hundreds portraits decorating the walls and the odd armour or two, that is), and then he started to run as fast as he could towards the Hospital Wing. In his hurry, he jumped from a moving staircase to another and ran through the Grey Lady, who screeched as if he were the ghost and she a damsel in distress.  
  
Once he was in front of the Infirmary, he stopped a moment to catch his breath, then pushed the door open and entered. Madam Pomfrey came out of her office, and one look at him sent her bustling towards the potions- cabinet.  
  
"What have you done, now, Mr. Potter?"  
  
Blushing at the realization that he probably was the most frequent visitor of the Hospital Wing, Harry cleared his throat and answered.  
  
"Uh... It's not me, Ma'am. I- I just wanted to know about Professor Snape. I mean, if he's gotten better..."  
  
To this the medi-witch paused a moment, then she came towards Harry and started gently pushing him towards the exit.  
  
"Now, now, Mr Potter... there's no need to concern yourself. I'm sure your Potions master will be perfectly all right. Now, why don't you go back to your friends?"  
  
By then Harry was out of the Infirmary, and Madam Pomfrey shut the door in his face. Gently. She *was* Madam Pomfrey, after all. Even though her bedside manner could be found unnerving by her patients, she'd never been seen being outwardly rough with anyone.  
  
//That was strange. *He will be perfectly all right*, she said. That means he's not right now. I feel bad for him. I mean, he's got hurt helping me!!!//  
  
Wondering why he wasn't allowed into the Hospital Wing, Harry made his way back to the Tower, having decided to take the nap he'd told his friends he needed. As he walked, though, he decided that Snape was probably better already, and that that was the very reason why he wasn't welcome there, since the professor hated him.  
  
//Yeah, that must be it.// thought the Boy-Who-Lived, just after slipping under his red and gold covers. Then he fell into an unusually peaceful sleep, which kept him occupied until lunchtime.  
  
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The rest of Saturday passed without any word about the previous evening's events, apart from the flurry of gossip that was born when the Headmaster announced that Mr. Crabbe, Mr.Goyle and Ms. Bullstrode had been missing since the previous evening, and due to some facts which he wouldn't bore the student-body with it was highly unlikely that they would ever return to the school.  
  
Harry and his friends kept their eyes fixed onto the Slytherins as the announcement was made, but none of them seemed to know what was going on. Not even Malfoy, who was looking furious at the loss of his gorillas.  
  
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Sunday was to be spent in Hogsmeade, and so the golden trio left the school at the head of their House, Hermione because she was the Prefect, and the other two just to stay with her. Once in Hogsmeade, though, they split up. Hermione had to follow the third years on their first Hogsmeade trip, and Ron wanted to pay a visit to the twins in their new shop. Not in the mood for either, Harry went for a walk down the main street of the small town.  
  
As he looked at the shops and idea started to take shape in his mind. Since Snape had been so courageous, and had got injured to save Harry's life, it was only fair that he should show the man that he was grateful. Something told him that a simple thank-you note wouldn't be well-received and besides, he wasn't really good at those. A present, he thought, would be ok. Not that Snape would accept it any better than he would a note, but if he managed to find something useful, at least it could do some good for his professor.  
  
The problem was, what did Snape need? Shampoo was the first answer to pop up in Harry's mind, but he was fairly sure that whatever annihilation felt like, it would have been bliss compared to what Snape would do to him were he to give him shampoo. Something potions-related was out of question as well, since his knowledge of the subject was, at the very best, pitiful, and moreover Snape would probably take such a gift as a sort of mockery.  
  
He was wandering the alleys, thinking about what he could buy, when he came in front of a boutique with a shiny display of clothes, robes and trinkets of every kind behind its glass. With a determined look on his face, Harry entered, and less than fifteen minutes later he came out holding a silver and green parcel under his arm. He started walking towards the Three Broomsticks, but thought better of it and stopped to shrink the package until it fit into his pocket before he met with any of his friends. He really didn't want to hear Ron's opinion about buying a gift for Snape.  
  
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By the time evening came around and everyone was in the Great Hall for dinner, Harry and his friends weren't the only ones to have noticed Snape's absence. So, when Professor McGonagall tinkled her silver spoon against her glass and the Headmaster stood to make the second announcement in two days, everyone could guess what, or at least who it was all about.  
  
"Dear students, I'm afraid my announcements are getting more and more frequent," began Dumbledore as he fixed his blue eyes onto the four house tables, "but I fear what I have to tell you can't be postponed. Yesterday evening an attack was made on a Hogwarts student, whom I won't name. Our Potions Master Severus Snape was able to save the student's life, but to do so he had to shield them with his own body, thus putting himself at the receiving end of a very powerful curse. The curse was an age-reversal one, which would have brought the student back of twenty-five years, to a moment when they didn't even exist, thus obliterating them. Fortunately, Professor Snape is older than twenty-five, and so it is that he was simply brought back to the age of seventeen."  
  
Murmurs exploded in the Hall, both at the idea of Snape saving someone's life and at the spell. Everyone was also wondering if that meant they would be spared Potions classes. McGonagall had to call everybody to silence twice before the Headmaster could go on.  
  
"At present we don't have a counter-curse with which to cure Professor Snape, so he will be joining you students as a Slytherin seventh year, for the time being. His memories are simply those related to his first seventeen years of life, but he has been informed of what has happened since then, more or less."  
  
"Yeah, like the fact that they've invented hot water and the broomstick!"  
  
The comment obviously came from a Gryffindor, even if no one could tell who exactly had said it, and it didn't fail to make all students collapse into hysterical laughter, even the Slytherins. When the noise died down, the Headmaster finished his speech:  
  
"I'd greatly appreciate if the students, as well as the faculty, could help him fit in. Potions class is suspended until a substitute will be found. Let me introduce to you your new temporary schoolmate, Severus Snape."  
  
With this he motioned to a figure standing in the shadow of the back entrance of the Hall, just beside the teachers' table, and a boy in Slytherin uniform came out into the light. A hush fell upon the Hall. The boy was tall and lean, maybe a bit on the thin side, and had glossy black hair falling onto his shoulders in lazy waves. No one could help noticing that that hair was not greasy at all, and that the boy's complexion was not sallow like their teacher's, but rather ivory-pale. The hooked nose was there, all right, there was no mistaking it, and the black pools of ink staring at the students were definitely Snape's eyes, so the Headmaster hadn't been joking, after all.  
  
Something was missing, though, or so Harry thought, as he observed that cold face from his seat at Gryffindor table. He felt as if Snape's face was a puzzle, and just one more piece would make it complete. What was it? What was missing that made Harry think this wasn't the man...boy, who'd saved his life?  
  
Just then, as if on cue, the Slytherin turned his eyes towards Harry, and his gaze locked with that of the Boy-Who-Lived. And in a matter of seconds everything was all right, and Harry just *knew* that this was really Snape, and that beside his age nothing was wrong with him. For, as soon as he'd seen him, the corner of the boy's mouth had curled up, and now Severus Snape was sneering. Sneering at him, at Harry Potter. The world was all right again.  
  
Tbc...  
  
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	3. Where Do the Years Go?

AUTHOR: Iani Ancilla (chaosnomiko@hotmail.com)  
  
PAIRING: HP/SS (Harry Potter/Severus Snape.) It's *slash*, people, slash. Two male characters in love. With each other. And doing stuff. Even if not in this chapter (sigh!).  
  
RATING: R for later chapters. Right now it's maybe PG for language (even if my cousin who's 7 knows the Italian for all of these words, and many more).  
  
TITLE: Turn Back Time (if you come up with anything better, please let me know!!!)  
  
DISCLAIMER: JK Rowling owns everything. Included my soul, at least until book 5 comes out. Don't sue; right now the only thing you'd get is a crumpled leaflet for the London Dungeon, only leftover of my Xmas holiday. Sigh.  
  
THANKS: To Dyane, because she's found so many points which needed to be clearer in this, that it is probably just thanks to her if this is understandable at all! ^^;; Thanks also to Shushu and Pol for moral support and insults, and of course to my ickle Sevviekins, the snarky voice in my head whom I love so much and who keeps my self-esteem at manageable levels...  
  
QUESTIONS: When did Sev learn that Black's an animagus?? I wrote this assuming he found out during the first Shrieking Shack incident. Hope I got that right, if not, think of it as an AU where he did. I couldn't resist putting 'mangy mutt' remarks in it. ^^;;  
  
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TURN BACK TIME  
  
Chapter 3: Where Do the Years Go?  
  
Severus Snape stepped into the Great Hall as he was called, and as soon as he was fully under the light he could hear every conversation drop as every stare turned onto him.  
  
His usual scowl deepened, and he swept his eyes over the Hall, assessing with a glance that what he'd been told was actually true. It seemed the Headmaster wasn't *completely* off his rocker, then. Not a familiar face at the Slytherin table, even if there were some students who looked a bit like his classmates. He spotted immediately what had to be this generation's Malfoy, and cringed in horror as he realized that Nott had indeed procreated.  
  
The same went for the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, even if he didn't know enough of the bloody Huffs to be sure there were any of his contemporaries' offspring. He shuddered slightly as he turned his gaze onto the Gryffindor table, but he found his fears were unmotivated: no annoying blue eyes stared up at him with the dim-witted expression that only Black could muster without even having to try. Evidently the mutt hadn't found a bird crazy enough to want him. He didn't even want to contemplate the notion of the idiot sharing his sexual preferences.  
  
In the meantime his eyes had been taking in other small details about the red and gold fools, like the presence of a redheaded girl who could be nothing but a Weasley. Tsk, a Weasleyless world would be too much to ask for, wouldn't it? Well, be it what it may, the lack of any children of Black's was enough to make his day, if it was indeed true that the pillock hadn't transmitted his deranged genes to some poor creature in this time. Another bright red spot caught his eye, and he was reminded that Weasleys don't come alone, but in crowds. He was busy glaring at the lad with carrot- red hair, who seemed to be about his own age, when his eyes shifted of their own will to the boy next to him. He had to use all of his self- control not to gape. He was looking at the exact carbon copy of Potter. //Must be his son// he thought. Well, Minerva had been right. The guy did look like his father. A lot. And it woke every single feeling he had for James. Not good feelings, not good feelings at all. Rage, loathing, and something almost bordering on downright hatred. Not quite like it, but almost. True hatred was something he only felt towards Black, he thought darkly. For a moment he almost regretted that the stupid dog didn't have a son. A first year, maybe. It would have been fun.  
  
Thinking back to his conversation with the now deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall he realized it was all Potter's fault if he was... well, not in another time, since from what he'd learned he hadn't actually travelled in time but just reverted to the age of seventeen, losing all the knowledge and memories he had accumulated in his other years. Resentment rose inside him, resentment for the loss of all those years he didn't even remember having lived through, resentment at having to face such an experience as starting it all over again, with people who knew him just as a teacher and probably hated and despised him. And it was Potter's fault. And after the fool's father had saved his life, he couldn't even hate him properly. He hated his life.  
  
Looking sharply into the boy's green eyes he did the only thing that could make him feel better. He sneered at him, trying to convey all the negative feelings he already harboured for the Boy-Who-Lived, without even having met him properly. It seemed he'd done a lot of sneering during the years he'd forgotten about, and something deep inside him remembered it, for no sneer had ever come so easily and naturally to his features like this one.  
  
He saw the blasted boy stare at him with a dumb look on his face, and then do the most absurd and stupid thing he could think of. He actually *smiled*. That was so much beyond his grasp that he didn't even want to dwell on it, and he promptly took his leave as soon as the Headmaster would let him, after having a word with Draco Malfoy, who apparently had bought himself the prefect badge much like his father had done twenty-five years ago. He stalked to the Slytherin dorms, and smirked as he spoke the password he'd been given. 'Potter sucks', indeed. Well, at least someone hadn't fallen for that Boy-Who-Lived crap the Headmaster had told him about.  
  
As soon as he'd reached his room he fervently thanked Merlin, Morgana and the Norns that he didn't have to share with anyone. He was sure he couldn't tolerate Draco Lord Muck Malfoy any more than he could Lucius. Sucking up to big-heads had often been a necessity for him, but from there to saying he actually enjoyed it, that was too long a way. He undressed and went to bed, where he lay for a while with his eyes closed, just replaying in his mind all that had happened since he'd woken up.  
  
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He'd opened his eyes to the blinding whiteness of the Hospital Wing, and the first thing to cross his mind had been that he hadn't the foggiest idea about the reason why he was there. A rustle of clothes had warned him of the presence of someone else in the room, and he'd turned around to find that a woman was sitting next to his bed, her back to the window. As soon as his eyes had adjusted a bit to the light coming from behind her, he had been shocked as realization had come, for she'd been the last person he'd ever have expected to watch him as he slept. Well, maybe the last after Black, but still...  
  
"A-aunt?"  
  
Clearly something in what he'd said hadn't pleased her, for she had looked at him with something of a preoccupied expression. She had stood and helped him sit up on the bed, and he'd taken a better look at her and thought that maybe she wasn't his aunt after all. First of all, what would she have been doing at *Hogwarts*, of all places? And besides, the woman was too old to be his father's sister. Definitely too old. Still...  
  
"Sorry. It must have been the light... I mistook you for my aunt..."  
  
"Your aunt?"  
  
Merlin. Even the voice was the same! Who the Hell was this woman?? And where was Pomfrey?  
  
"Yes, my aunt. You look quite like her." //Except the fact that you look like a granny, not like an auntie. Not going to say that, though// "Maybe you know her. Minerva Snape. Er, McGonagall Snape, now."  
  
What was wrong with the woman? Why was she looking at him like that?? Hell, she really *did* look like an older version of his aunt.  
  
"Severus, I- I *am* Minerva, but are you sure you're all right?"  
  
Life was getting too bloody complicated.  
  
"Yes, of course I'm all right, but what are you doing here? And what has happened to you? You look..." //like an old hag// "...different."  
  
Maybe he hadn't masked his thoughts as well as he should have, since his supposedly-aunt had gazed at him seething.  
  
"Severus, this isn't funny, stop it right now. You know I *live* here, and have done so for the last quarter of a century. And I look nothing different from when you saw me last, at the Halloween ball." Then, in an acid tone which was so Minervaish that every lingering doubt about the woman's identity flew out of the window, she'd added: "If someone looks any different, that is only you, Snape."  
  
No one addressed him in that tone! Well, no one but his father and grandfather, that is. This called for a fight. Or an argument, at the very least. He answered her in a harsh tone:  
  
"You most assuredly weren't living here last summer when you went off and married that muggle-loving fool of an Auror! And I skipped that pathetic excuse for a Ball last night, so I surely haven't seen you there. What are you calling me Snape for, anyway? You're as much of a Snape as I am, even if you've been trying to deny it, or has the marriage taken your blood- relation away?? And about looks, I haven't seen myself in a mirror yet, so I don't know what kind of dim-witted prank those imbeciles of Black and his Gryffindork friends have played on me this time! But before you start worrying about *my* looks, why don't you go and brew something for your wrinkles? For Merlin's sake, woman, you look seventy!"  
  
Thunderstruck. He'd left Aunt Minerva thunderstruck and speechless. Surely his words hadn't been that bad. After all *she*'d been the one to teach him the meaning of 'cutting remark'. And she'd taught him the hard way.  
  
"I think I know what's wrong, Severus. I thought your appearance was the only thing to have changed, but... Severus, how old are you?"  
  
Severus glared at her suspiciously, a bit taken aback by the apparent stupidity of what his aunt had just asked.  
  
"What kind of question is that? I'm seventeen, you know that, you sent me a card for my birthday, yesterday."  
  
Oh, Madam Pomfrey had arrived while they were speaking. Good, maybe she'd chase away that lunatic who called herself his aunt. Wait... Since when did Pomfrey look so old? Must be some kind of flu...  
  
"Oh, Merlin. I'll warn the Headmaster." And with this the medi-witch left them again. Shit, this was getting disturbing.  
  
"Severus, listen to me. You were hit with a curse that seems to have erased your memories of the past years, and to have turned your body into your seventeen years old self. Either that, or you have been switched with the Severus Snape from this time."  
  
"Yeah, sure. And Pettigrew is a Death Eater. Have you tried a trip to St.Mungo's?"  
  
Why was she looking at him like that?  
  
"Uhm... Actually it's been found that Pettigrew..."  
  
"What???"  
  
"Ehm..."  
  
After gaping at her for several moments, the boy glared at her and spoke in a harsh tone:  
  
"And you expect me to believe this bullshit?"  
  
He'd never used such language in front of his aunt, but he felt the situation called for it.  
  
Minerva, however, didn't seem to care about the way he'd addressed her, and instead she took her wand from her pocket and flicked it slightly:  
  
"Accio yearbook!"  
  
Waiting just a few moments, se rose from her seat and walked calmly to the door to Madam Pomfrey's office, opening it and catching the thick book which flied into her waiting hand. Closing the door behind herself, she went back and sat again beside her nephew's bed, leafing quickly through the yearbook, until she found the page she'd been looking for. Turning the photo album around she handed it to Severus, who stared at the picture in it and gasped. A forty-something greasy-haired man was scowling back at him from the crackling parchment, and when it was clear to the picture that he wouldn't turn the page anytime soon, it simply glared and spun around, leaving only a blank space under the writing 'Severus Snape, Potions master' at the top of the page.  
  
Oh shit. It couldn't be. Who the Hell could have cursed him like that? Black wasn't that powerful, and neither were his cronies... How much time had passed, anyway?  
  
"What's the date, then?"  
  
"Sunday the second of November nineteen-ninety-seven."  
  
"WHAT???"  
  
"You heard me, Severus."  
  
"But-but that means that..."  
  
"Well, it means that I'm eighty-two, and you just gave me a big compliment in saying I look seventy. Thank you, dear."  
  
There had been just one possible thing to do, and Severus had seized the perfect moment for doing it as soon as he'd caught a glimpse of the Headmaster entering the room. He'd passed out.  
  
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When he'd woken up the issue hadn't been informing him of what had happened in the twenty-five years he'd missed, or finding a spell that would make him go back to normal. They all had just been worrying about who he was: was he 'their' Severus (and to that he'd commented that he was much his own person and that in whatever time he surely was nobody's Severus, thank you very much) or had he been switched? In the end it had been Dumbledore who had found the answer. Saying something about useful scars and marks that can't be covered by magic, he'd lifted Severus's left sleeve up to his elbow.  
  
Wondering what the old coot was doing he'd turned his gaze to his arm, and had stared in horror at what he'd seen there. He remembered being able to hear the others speaking, and he'd been aware of Minerva shaking him, but he'd been too caught up in the black skull and snake carved into his forearm.  
  
He'd awakened for the third time to the pure white of the Hospital Wing, and, after informing him that he'd fainted again seeing the Dark Mark marring his skin, they'd told him that he was the Severus from the present day, just brought back to the age of seventeen. They had drawn that conclusion from the presence of the Mark. Still feeling a little dizzy about the news, both that he'd lost memory of twenty-five years of his life and that he apparently was a Death Eater, he'd asked them to brief him on the twenty-five years he'd missed out.  
  
First to speak had been Minerva, who'd explained why she'd been so shocked by his calling her 'Aunt'. She'd narrated how, after less than a year since her marriage with Auror Virgil McGonagall, her husband had been killed in a Death Eater attack. Severus had understood her not wanting to be called a Snape anymore as she'd explained that both her brother (Severus' own father) and her father were among those responsible for Virgil's death. She'd told him how Albus Dumbledore had helped her right after the tragedy and offered shelter against her relatives by making her the Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts.  
  
"Since then I've taught here at Hogwarts without interruptions. You came here when you were just nineteen to teach Potions, but even if you too have denied our family we've never been on the best of terms, and you've retained the name of Snape. You usually address me simply as Minerva, or McGonagall. No one even remembers I was a Snape, so no one knows we're related."  
  
It had then been Albus's turn at filling him in on his past. It seemed he'd been forced to take the Dark Mark and become a perfect Death Eater just a couple of months after his seventeenth birthday, and he hadn't dared protest, seen as everyone around him was loyal to the Dark Lord. After Virgil's death, in which he was glad to find he hadn't played any role, he'd managed to contact Dumbledore and tell him about plans to murder Minerva as well. That had been the moment in which he'd started being the Headmaster's spy among the Death Eaters, and the very reason for his aunt to start teaching at Hogwarts.  
  
"I... I didn't know any of this, Albus! You never told me it was Severus who warned you! I didn't even know he was a spy until years later!"  
  
"There were reasons for you not to know, Minerva. Besides, you and Severus couldn't be reunited as a family without running the risk of blowing his cover, and that would have been far too dangerous."  
  
Minerva had then done something Severus had always thought her incapable of: she'd come over to him and hugged him to an inch of his life. //So there *was* a reason for her placement in Gryffindor. Stupid emotional women. Both my aunt and Pomfrey, who's crying herself silly in commotion. And stupid twinkly-eyed Headmasters. And stupid dust in the air which is making my eyes teary too.//  
  
After the embarrassing display of emotions had ended, he was quickly told of his work as a spy, of his becoming a teacher and then a Potions master, and of his position as Head of Slytherin House. He learned of the demise of Voldemort, of Harry Potter and of the Azkaban sentences for almost all of his relatives. He learned of how Dumbledore had defended him during the trials and of how Voldemort had returned. He learned of his delicate relationships with all the surviving Death Eaters and their sons and daughters to whom he taught, and of his going back to Voldemort once again as spy. He learned of how he'd blown up his cover to save the Boy-Who- Lived, and of the repercussion this had had on him (not least his being reverted to his teenage self).  
  
In the end, the Headmaster had explained in detail what his life was going to be until they found a way to get him back to normal. It was then that he remembered why he'd never much liked the man.  
  
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//Well,// he thought just before drifting asleep //at least I won't have to worry about the blasted dog and Potter. Well, not James Potter, anyway.//  
  
Tbc...  
  
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	4. A Matter of Style

AUTHOR: Iani Ancilla (chaosnomiko@hotmail.com)  
  
PAIRING: HP/SS (Harry Potter/Severus Snape.) It's *slash*, people, slash. Two male characters in love. With each other. And doing stuff. Even if not in this chapter (sigh!).  
  
RATING: R for later chapters. Right now it's maybe PG for language (even if my cousin who's 7 knows the Italian for all of these words, and many more).  
  
TITLE: Turn Back Time  
  
DISCLAIMER: Do I really have to say it? Alas, I do. Not mine. If they were, I'd be in bed with them right now, not here writing... Why can't I have my very own Sev and at least share the property of a Lucius??? Sigh...  
  
THANKS: To Dyane who found the plot-holes in this chapter warned me about them. To Shushu and Pol for moral support and help in resisting gas-room love (you don't want to know), to my aussie English prof, who's too sweet for his own good, and to Hamlet, in the hope of managing to jump him one of these days...  
  
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TURN BACK TIME  
  
Chapter 4: A Matter of Style  
  
Harry's first lesson on Monday was DADA, which happened to be his favorite subject, so it was with a bouncing step and a happy soul that he made his way with his friends to the Great Hall for breakfast. As they entered the Hall, owls started flying in from everywhere like every other morning, but this time there were more than usual, and almost all the extra ones were directed to the Slytherins, with the odd Ravenclaw every now and again. Curiously watching those two tables, Harry saw most of those who read their letters gasp and visibly stiffen. He understood what the matter was just when Malfoy, after burning his letter in a showy move, turned quickly to look at the end of the Slytherin table. Following the silver-haired boy's glare, Harry saw the young-looking Professor Snape petting a large raven as he retrieved what looked like a thick magazine from its claws. Sensing Draco's gaze on himself, Snape looked away from his familiar to stare into the other's gray eyes, and waited. He didn't have to do so for long, though, since almost as soon as their eyes locked Malfoy hissed out:  
  
"Traitor."  
  
Soft murmurs came from all House Tables. Looking sharply at the other boy, Snape smirked, flexed his fingers in front of his face, and spoke in his famous deadly whisper:  
  
"For one to be a traitor, one must originally be on the same side as those one has supposedly betrayed."  
  
He waited a couple of seconds , until Draco's widening eyes told him his words had sunk in, then he went on.  
  
"I believe the definiton you're looking for, Malfoy, is 'spy-who-fooled-all- of-you-blighters-for-years'."  
  
That said, Snape rose and gathered his books, leaving for class in a flurry of robes.  
  
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The tense atmosphere of the Great Hall was felt even more intensely by the Gryffindor and Slytherin seventh years in their DADA classroom. Snape, the first to get there, was sitting in the first desk on the left of the front row, which usually was Neville's place. Not wanting to sit next to the now- young professor, who still terrorized him, Neville sat down on the right side of the front row, which was usually left empty, and Harry, Ron and Hermione settled down beside him. As always, the second row was entirely taken up by the Slytherins, while all the other Gryffindors occupied the back of the classroom.  
  
McKinnon, the ex-Auror who now taught them Defense Against the Dark Arts, was late, and as they waited for him to arrive, Harry busied himself with watching Snape, who was being taunted by his housemates. The ex-professor wasn't paying a great deal of attention to them, just occasionally waving his wand over his shoulder to deflect a hex or two, without rising to their baits. He was pouring over the DADA book, probably gathering information about the happenings and the new discoveries of the years he'd missed. Peering out from under his books was the magazine he'd received during breakfast, and Harry, who was sitting just two desks away from the raven- haired boy, was dying to know what sort of rubbish his Potions master read. After all, he reflected, if he by chance discovered that the overly dignified Severus Snape had a secret subscription to Witch Weekly or Wizard 3000, he would have blackmail material to last him until the end of school.  
  
In the time Harry had taken to think about his Potions master, the Slytherins had taken their teasing up a notch, and Malfoy, who'd mostly kept to himself until then, finally spoke.  
  
"I'd never had thought it of you, Snape. Risking your life and betraying your Lord for a filthy mud-blood such as Potter..."  
  
At this Snape did turn around to look at his housemates, making himself comfortable with his back against the wall before speaking as if to a little child.  
  
"You do realize, Malfoy, that saying it was Potter who was taken by the Death Eaters, when the Headmaster didn't even utter his name, you're letting out that you know far more than you should, don't you? And you do realize also that with the connections your father has, it's not that difficult for everybody to understand how you'd know what went on on Friday night?"  
  
Malfoy was seething, but clearly not defeated.  
  
"What connections are you talking about? How dare you say my father has anything to do with the Death Ea-"  
  
"Actually, Draco, I was speaking of your father's position within the Ministry. Strange that you'd immediately think about the White Masks, instead. Be that as it may, I wonder if Lucius would be pleased to hear you referring to people who work for the Light Side as 'traitors' and speaking of Voldemort -most of the students flinched at the name- as your Lord. Then again, it's not as if anyone's got any doubts on where the Malfoys' loyalties truly lie..."  
  
Draco had blanched at this, finally realizing how his slips of tongue could cost him and his family dearly, and he looked quite worried. Harry felt almost bad for him. Keyword: almost. All of the Slytherins were now looking speculatively at Malfoy, as if judging whether he was strong and cunning enough to be their leader. Sensing the gravity of the situation as well, Draco made his last attempt at regaining control, stammering out:  
  
"Don't try changing the subject, Snape. Since when do you help mud-bloods?"  
  
"And who are you referring to? Perhaps Lily Evans? Well, she *is* muggle- born, I won't deny that, but at least I'm fairly sure that she and Potter are completely human and legitimate, something which I'm not too sure about in your case, since it wasn't *their* grandfathers who were known to have numerous bastard children with Veelas..."  
  
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!"  
  
Malfoy had scrambled away from his chair and was now standing wand-out before Snape, while the black-haired boy had put two rows of desks between them and was waiting in front of the blackboard for the other's attack, twirling his wand in his hand.  
  
"Glacies!"  
  
A sharp shard of glittering ice left Malfoy's wand, flying at top speed towards the other Slytherin. With a simple flick of his wand and a shout of "Igneo!" Snape cancelled the offensive spell, and not waiting for his adversary to attack again, he cast a hex on him:  
  
"Viscera concrescant!"  
  
Malfoy dropped to the ground clutching at his stomach in pain, but didn't yield, instead looking up at Snape with eyes full of hatred.  
  
"You... bastard!"  
  
Snape's thin lip curled up in a smirk, but after some more impossibly long seconds he released his housemate from the curse and quietly made his way back to his seat.  
  
After a moment of complete calm in which everyone and everything was still, Zabini gathered up his books and moved silently to sit into the desk next to Snape's, while everyone's eyes followed his moves.  
  
The other Slytherins all turned to look as if in askance at Pansy Parkinson, who looked at Snape and then at Malfoy. Then, with a slight shake of her head and a determined expression in her eyes, she crouched down next to the silver-haired boy who was still panting from the aftershocks of the spell, and holding out her hand she told him softly:  
  
"Here, Draco, let me help..."  
  
As she cast a light healing charm and thus demonstrated that her allegiance to Draco wouldn't waver, the Gryffindors came out of their shock and went back to their usual nature.  
  
"Hey, Snape! It's always good to see someone kicking Malfoy's arse, even if it's another Slytherin! Bravo!"  
  
"Yeah, Seamus is right! You acted like a true Gryffindor there!"  
  
Interrupting the soft talk he had started with Blaise, Snape looked up to find Dean Thomas grinning at him and giving him the thumbs-up.  
  
"Piss off, you Gryffindor scum. Why would I want to act like one of you pillocks?"  
  
Where Draco's first reaction to insult had been that of raising his wand, Finnigan and Thomas raised their fists instead, and ran to Snape's desk. Seeing himself outnumbered, Severus tried to get away from them, but as it is difficult to escape when you have to stay inside a relatively small classroom where almost everyone is looking murderously at you, he quickly found himself cornered, with a very pissed off Scottish boy throwing punches at him. Not one to yield without a fight (not that yielding would have been of any use after what he'd said), and cursing himself for his stupidity in forgetting his wand on the desk, where he'd been showing it to Zabini, the black-haired boy tried to at least defend himself, giving a couple of strong kicks to Dean's shins and scratching and clawing at Seamus's face. Blaise made some halfhearted attempts at separating the fighting boys, but he backed away when it became clear that he would be involved in the fight if he didn't. In the meantime Severus, who, despite being the tallest, apparently wasn't very proficient in hand-to-hand combat, was being beaten to a bloody pulp by the two stockier boys.  
  
Harry, who until then hadn't played any part in what was going on in the classroom, looked appalled at his housemates' violence. Pinning Ron (who looked ready to go and help Dean and Seamus) to his desk with a glare, Harry walked to the corner where the three boys were, and tried to peel his house mates away from Snape, who was now slumped against the wall, his nose bleeding and lip split. As he managed to calm his housemates down, Harry noticed that they weren't completely unscathed, either, even if they were by far in better condition than Snape. Dean grimaced every time he put his weight onto his left ankle, and Seamus sported some bloody scratches on his cheeks. Harry offered a hand up to Snape, wanting to help him and to apologize for the others' behavior, but the Slytherin hissed at him and stood up by himself, his face contorting in pain and disgust as he had to lean onto the wall for support.  
  
"Dean, Seamus, don't you think you overdid it a bit?"  
  
"Harry! How can you say that?!? You heard what he said!"  
  
"And is that a reason to beat him?"  
  
"Well, look at what he did to Malfoy! It's not as if he's helpless, is it?"  
  
Harry just glared at Dean, and it was Snape who answered, even if after the beating his voice wasn't at its usual silky standard but rather scratchy and hoarse:  
  
"He's right, Potter. After all, it's just fair that it should take two Gryffindors to overcome a Slytherin..."  
  
"Now you die!"  
  
"Seamus, stop! Have you got any idea of how many points this will cost us?"  
  
That had he desired effect and froze the Gryffindor, but did nothing to stop Malfoy from walking to where they stood and drawling at Snape:  
  
"Really, and here I thought that good Slytherins had a knack for keeping out of trouble and siding with winners... Says something about you, doesn't it, Snape?"  
  
Everyone held their breath, waiting for the ex-professor's reaction, but Severus narrowed his eyes staring over Harry's shoulder, and then did the unexpected and collapsed to the floor whimpering and clutching his side. Harry started towards him with a concerned expression, but before he could do anything a stern voice came from right behind him.  
  
"And what exactly is happening here?"  
  
The Boy-Who-Lived turned quickly around to find himself face to face with Auror Sean McKinnon, their DADA teacher.  
  
"I- Uhm... Ah, well, you see, sir..."  
  
Harry was at a loss, and didn't know what to say that wouldn't put Dean and Seamus into too much trouble. Unfortunately, McKinnon completely mistook his uncertainty for guilt, and seeing the slumped figure of his now-young colleague behind him, he quickly put two and two together and glared furiously at the Gryffindor.  
  
"Mr. Potter, I made the great mistake of believing you were old enough not to give into petty fights over stupid reasons, and I truly didn't think a Gryffindor capable of raising his hand against someone who obviously is in a very difficult situation..."  
  
"But Profes-"  
  
"SILENCE! Fifty points will be taken from your House, and you will serve detention with Filch tonight for three hours!" Then the furious professor shifted his gaze to Snape, who was quick to wipe the smug grin off his face before it could be detected.  
  
"Severus, are you all right?"  
  
"I think so, sir, but could I go to see Madam Pomfrey after the lesson?"  
  
Harry had to admit that Snape was a far better actor than Malfoy had been when he'd pretended to be hurt during Quidditch, even if that could depend slightly on the fact that Snape was really hurting... Anyway, McKinnon quickly helped Snape to get to his feet, and then said:  
  
"You may go now, Mr. Snape, though it would be best if someone accompanied you. Malfoy...?"  
  
Harry was looking intently at the black-haired boy, and he was probably the only one to catch the malicious glitter in the black eyes as Severus answered in a small voice:  
  
"Uhm, could Blaise come with me instead, sir?"  
  
"Of course, Severus. Maybe they could both come with you, would that be ok?"  
  
"I- I'd prefer going with just Blaise, sir."  
  
It wasn't hard to catch the exact moment in which the teacher's confused concern became suspicion.  
  
"Is there something you need to tell me, Mr. Snape?"  
  
And it was then that Snape truly played his cards like a master:  
  
"I- Sir, it wasn't only Potter who attacked me... It was also Malfoy, and... those two...." said the Slytherin pointing at Finnigan and Thomas, whose names he still didn't know.  
  
The astonished expression on the Auror's face told the boy he'd better add something soon if he wanted to be believed, but, fortunately for Snape, Ron stepped into the conversation trying to defend his friends, and only making the situation worse for them by further pissing off the teacher:  
  
"Professor, he's lying! He was the one who-"  
  
"Be silent, Weasley! When I'll need your opinion I'll ask for it. Fifty points will be taken from your Houses for each of you -he pointed at Seamus, Dean and Draco- and all of you will be serving detention along with Potter! And tomorrow you will be speaking with the Headmaster!"  
  
At the mention of Dumbledore Snape paled a bit, conscious that his little act wouldn't fool the elder wizard, and tugging at the professor's sleeve he managed to whisper:  
  
"It's not that important, sir... There's no need to disturb the Headmaster..."  
  
Staring at him with a doubtful look on his strong features, McKinnon sighed and gave in.  
  
"All right, Mr. Snape, but please warn me, should anything like this happen again."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"And all of you, be grateful to him, for I'm positive that the Headmaster wouldn't have liked this one bit."  
  
-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o- O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-  
  
Severus was sitting on his Infirmary bed and chatting with Blaise, who was proving to be quite smart and funny, when the door opened and in came Professor McGonagall. Looking sharply at him, she motioned for Zabini to go with a quick gesture, and as soon as the door closed behind the boy she spoke in an angry voice:  
  
"Severus Sulpicius Snape, I know you and I know my Gryffindors! I might believe Malfoy attacked you when he learnt about your being a spy, but those from my House must have been provoked to gain such a reaction! Now explain yourself!"  
  
Saying that Severus was startled wouldn't be saying half of it, and he mentally slapped himself when he realized that he hadn't thought about his aunt, who knew him too well to fall for such a simple lie. Deciding that the best course of action would be that of telling the truth, he did just that, even though he couldn't help revising it a bit, portraying himself as the almost innocent victim of the circumstances and the other boys as unexplainably unfriendly and violent. Minerva clearly didn't fall for the lies, but someway her nephew managed to move her enough to get her to soften a bit, so that once his narration was over she was looking almost kindly at him, and it was in a gentle tone that she spoke.  
  
"Severus, why in Merlin's name did you do that? You knew they would get angry at you."  
  
Thinking about it for a moment, the boy opted once again for a truthful answer:  
  
"Well, I needed to make it clear that I wouldn't be on Draco's side, and I needed to know who would follow me and who him. The Gryffs weren't planned, but I surely couldn't let them speak to me as if I were one of *them*."  
  
Overlooking Severus' comment about her own House, she asked:  
  
"And what have you discovered?"  
  
Looking up at her with a calculating expression in his pitch-black eyes, he thought about it for a couple of seconds, then answered:  
  
"Blaise will be with me, as long as that doesn't cost him too much. The others are against me, but apart from Draco they shouldn't present a great problem. I hope."  
  
"Just tell us if anything happens."  
  
"I'm more concerned about the Gryffindors right now."  
  
Suddenly going back to her normal persona at the thought of her House, McGonagall bristled and briskly rose and walked away, lingering just a moment at the doorstep to toss him a half-glare from over her shoulder:  
  
"That's your own fault. You lost us one-hundred fifty points. Just be grateful I won't do anything, but remember it's just for this once."  
  
-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o- O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-  
  
While McGonagall was making her way to her classroom to prepare for the next lesson, the Boy-Who-Lived was staring numbly into a Seer ball, which wasn't revealing any deep secrets to him apart from the fact that the incense-fumes of the Divination classroom could leave permanent halos on crystal, beside making him sleepy.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
"Uh?"  
  
"Ron to Harry, Ron to Harry, can you hear us Harry? You should at least pretend to listen while she predicts your atrociously painful death, otherwise she'll give us extra homework!"  
  
"Uh."  
  
"C'mon, Ron, it's useless. You know Harry always manages to get stoned with this bloody incense."  
  
Awakened by Dean's comment, Harry tried to deny, but his protests ended up in a big yawn which made his friends snigger at him.  
  
"Harry, how will you manage detention tonight if you're already sleeping now?"  
  
Ron's comment earned an offended snort from Seamus.  
  
"Stupid greasy git. Now Gryffindor is third after Slytherin and Ravenclaw."  
  
"Well, it's your fault, really, you shouldn't complain. Harry is the one who should be wanting to hex the slimy prat into next week! I wonder why the hell he said it was Harry who attacked him, when he'd been defending him just until then!"  
  
Looking at Ron with big green eyes and the dreamy expression which he always got from the fumes during Divination, Harry stated in a solemn tone:  
  
"He had to. It was a matter of style."  
  
He almost cracked his jaw around a huge yawn while his friends looked disbelievingly at him, but when they overcame their shock and tried asking for explanation, his head had already hit the table, and he was snoring lightly, sleeping peacefully as he dreamt of shiny crystal balls, sadistic black-eyed Slytherins, and snitch-shaped marshmallows.  
  
-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o- O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-  
  
Tbc...  
  
Iani Ancilla 


End file.
